


Accomodations

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [22]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-28 19:32:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13910691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: HYDRA's new soldiers aren't all they could be, but without a super soldier to experiment on, they have no hope of recreating the serum. Unless, perhaps, they can convince a geneticist who has been working in Bruce Banner's lab to assist them.Unfortunately for HYDRA, Tony Stark did not invite Dr. Evelyn Vivas to the Tower to continue Bruce's work. Fortunately for the Avengers, HYDRA doesn't know what her work truly entails. If that secret is revealed, Pepper and Darcy will both be in terrible danger. Evelyn only has to hold out until rescue arrives. If it arrives.HYDRA can be very persuasive.*Takes place July 10, 2017.





	1. Flight Cancelled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minami016](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minami016/gifts).



> After reading Mac Davis, Minami016 wondered what happened to Evelyn while she was in HYDRA's tender care. Spoiler Alert: It's nothing good.

**July 10, 2017**

 

Evie muttered a curse under her breath as she looked at her watch. In five minutes, she would be irrevocably late. Her plane was scheduled to depart in two hours, and it was forty minutes from Stark Industries to the airport.  If she missed it, she would have to fly standby – or call Pepper to charter a flight. Tony would only use that as further proof she should completely relocate to the Tower, rather than continue to straddle the coasts. And this was an important exam; Evie was almost as nervous about it as Pepper surely was. The clerical assistant assigned to “Small Projects” was still talking in her ear.

“Dr. Vivas, I really must insist that you contact _Root_ _Industries_. I have sent you eight requests in the last three days, and they continue to call.”

“So you have said, Hayley. I have contacted them, but unfortunately they did not accept my position on the matter. Please bear with me, eventually they will give up.” The elevator arrived at the lobby and Evie impatiently waited for two other passengers to get off before her. She glanced to the large clock above the main entrance, hoping perhaps her watch was fast – only to see the shuttle to the airport leaving. _Stupid, goddamn_ _pendejos que no pueden aceptar un no por respuesta_.

Hayley took a deep breath, preparing to argue with her, but Evie was already late – she couldn’t afford the time. “I am on my way to New York now, but I will contact the  _Root_ offices as soon as I arrive. Thank you for being so patient on this issue.” She ended the call before Hayley could interpret the sarcasm and gripped her rolling suitcase tighter. She would need to get a cab, which would mean trekking across the small executive parking lot in front of Stark Industries LA to the street. At least she had worn a kitten heel to work.

To Evie’s surprise, a cab was letting a gentleman off just as she reached the street. She climbed in gratefully while the driver put her carry on in the trunk. “LAX, please, terminal four. I’m running a little behind.” They pulled out into traffic and Evie reached into her bag for her extra phone battery. 

“Don’t worry, Dr. Vivas,” the cabbie said. Evie’s head snapped up in alarm. He wasn’t looking at her, but the rear doors locked and the air vents hissed. “We’ll get you where you need to be.”

 

***

“Is this reliable?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Steve. “Have I ever brought you intel that wasn’t?”

Steve had the good manners to nod in apology. “We were fairly certain someone was interested in the serum after the attempt at the  upstate facility, but this implies it goes beyond just trying to make another Winter Soldier.”

“Just?” Barnes didn’t place any particular inflection on the word, nor did he look up from the tablet where he was doodling, but the point was clear. Steve winced, Natasha ignored them both.

“Yes, _just_. As formidable as you may have been-” she raised a hand to forestall his objection, “-and still are, there are things much worse than kidnapping one of us and applying brainwashing.”

“Bruce?” Steve shook his head and Natasha breathed shallowly to control her own reaction to the thought of the Hulk in HYDRA’s hands. “Even Tony can’t find him. Between him and Dr. Foster they are pretty sure he isn’t even in our solar system, so I don’t think we need to worry about the Hulk doing HYDRA’s dirty work. Even if they could turn him into a weapon – and I’m not convinced anyone can.”

“What we have seen over the past few months – since before Thanksgiving, really – is a series of well-funded, well-coordinated attacks on biomedical facilities. Sharp increases in profits in the Sunday drug. And an alarming propensity to distract us with civilian casualties whenever they desire. And all carried out by increasingly strong and nearing indestructible soldiers.”

“Don’t forget Vision’s stalker,” Barnes added.

Steve ignored him. “So if this is HYDRA, and I think we all agree that it is, what is the point, if not to take one of us? It looks like they might have already created their own version of a serum or something like it, if the tests from your last prisoners are correct, and they are getting better.  Or at least living longer. So why bother? It would be a huge risk to try and take one of us – much less hold us.” He gestured at Natasha. “You’d be more likely to get intel from them than turn, and this jerk,” he rolled his eyes at Barnes, “would destroy half their operation and make the other half wet themselves.”

“Don’t underestimate them, Stevie,” Barnes said softly. “Or overestimate me.”

Natasha repressed a sigh. Barnes was right, of course. Not particularly helpful, but right. It was Steve who was, once again, having difficulty seeing the more insidious intricacy in a plan. For a moment, she considered leaving things as they were. It would be kinder, to both Steve and Darcy, but kindness had never kept anyone safe. And it certainly wasn’t Natasha’s default method.

“Their soldiers are flawed. They want someone with Erksine’s formula – or at least a derivative of it – to increase the effectiveness of their serum. They don’t need to turn one of us for that.”

“Just blood samples.” Barnes had the same look she had first seen on his face in 1958. He wanted to kill someone, but he was waiting until the time was right.

Steve, however, had taken the idea one step further. Natasha could tell when he understood what she was suggesting. His face paled, so white his freckles stood out sharply greenish against the blanched skin.

“Darcy,” he breathed.

“More specifically, your baby. Evie confirmed that it does carry markers for the same serum that you have, Steve.”

“A baby couldn’t fight back.” Barnes’ statement came with a look of equal parts nausea and deep-seated hatred. Natasha understood his feelings. She had been a child herself when HYDRA had taken her; she did not remember her real family, only vague recollections of a calloused hand leading her to a dance studio. At that young age, she had been so completely shaped by them, she had not even struggled during her graduation ceremony. It would be so much worse if they could mold a person from infancy.

“I will burn them to the ground.”

The room remained silent for several seconds after Steve’s statement. His blue eyes were lit with an inner fire that spoke of exactly how anyone threatening Darcy or his child would suffer. Barnes, clearly, was ready to pack ammunition and start on a two-man trail of death and destruction. Natasha, although the idea had significant appeal, had far more experience sublimating her desire for revenge to the wiser, more carefully constructed option.

“That may be premature. Darcy’s pregnancy is extremely classified information. Outside of Avengers, only Dr. Cho, Evie, Jane, and Laura are aware.”

“And myself, Agent Romanoff,” Friday politely reminded her.

“Of course, you as well,” Natasha replied. “I believe we can keep this knowledge in house for at least the next three months. Once Darcy begins to show, it will be more difficult, but not impossible, to deceive her staff. I estimate five months – maximum – until the news leaks and late night talk shows are speculating on patriotic names for the child.”

“That is plenty of time.”

If it had been anyone else, Natasha would have scoffed at the arrogance. But it was Barnes. Even as a child, she had known that Yasha could do anything if properly motivated. As an adult, it was clear that a threat to his best friend’s girlfriend and unborn baby were extremely motivating. Natasha congratulated herself silently on choosing the correct approach. With Barnes on her side, together they could restrain even Captain America and take down HYDRA methodically.

“No mercy.”

Steve had always done what needed to be done, but Natasha knew that he struggled with the idea of killing anyone unarmed. That included scientists and technicians responsible for horrors and tortures that still woke her sometimes. He preferred imprisonment and public trials. His new attitude would make things easier, but she worried that it might also change something fundamental about the man who had always represented the ideal for humanity. She hoped Steve would be able to live with his decision, because there would be no room in her plan for uncertainty.

“Agreed. I have resources gathering information right now on three potential strongholds that may lead to the types of scientific facilities that would be necessary to work on the serum. We can do a high-level overview today, but I recommend waiting to move until-”

“Pardon the interruption, Ms. Romanoff,” Friday broke in. “The Boss has requested your assistance in the penthouse.”

“Please tell Tony I’ll be with him shortly,” Natasha responded. She brought up satellite images of Cameroon. “This first location-”

“Ms. Romanoff,” Friday interrupted again. Both Barnes and Steve glanced up at the ceiling in irritation. “I am afraid that-”

“-me through, goddammit! Nat! I need you up here now.” Tony’s voice was loud over the sound system, and the faint voice of Pepper Potts in the background was audible.

“I am in a meeting, at the moment, Tony. Can this wait?”

“No, it can’t fucking wait! Do you think I just hang around trying to come up with reasons to bother you? This is important. Dr. Vivas missed her flight.” Barnes sat back in his chair with a frown and a measured exhalation. Steve crossed his arms and scowled. Natasha understood their feelings, but something else prickled at the back of her neck, making her swallow the sharp reply she had planned regarding her over qualification for playing travel agent.

“What do you need, Tony?”

“I need you to find her! Friday is looking now, but we don’t have anything on surveillance past her getting in a cab at SI LA. She was supposed to come to New York today, but no one has seen her.”

Barnes was standing, closing the maps Natasha had opened and pulling up instead images from the California Stark offices. Several still shots of Evie, pulling a red suitcase, flashed into view. Steve was  getting out his phone and texting – no doubt to tell Darcy she needed to stay in the Tower until further notice.

“Are you suggesting Dr. Vivas has been abducted?”

“What the- God, yes, Natasha!” Tony’s voice muffled for a moment, “No, Pep, Nat says it will be fine. I’m probably just overreacting. I’ll set up an appointment with my shrink. Have a smoothie. Nat,” he came back at full volume, “find her. We just began the first trial. And we – hrm, she, Dr. Vivas. She has information, about Pep and me. We need her back. It’s a security breech.”

“I’m with Barnes and Rogers now, in the new conference room. Come down and show us everything you have.” Friday ended the transmission and Natasha looked at Steve.

“She’s been treating Darcy,” he said woodenly. “If they want the serum – she can...she could tell them about the baby. They’ll make her.”

“We’ll find her before that happens,” Barnes promised. Privately, Natasha disagreed. As much as she admired the doctor, even liked her, she was still a civilian. If HYDRA knew what they were looking for, they could break Evie in less than twenty-four hours. Natasha could have done it in six. “The Doc seems like a tough lady. She’ll hold out.”

Natasha hoped that would be the case, but she planned for the worst.

 

 

_*pendejos que no pueden aceptar un no por respuesta: assholes who can’t take no for an answer_


	2. The Inevitable Degradation to Peanuts and Flat Soda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with me on this crazy, time-jumping ride. And for humoring me with my OC's. I just love James Barnes, soldier and friend and stubbornly not a victim, so much and he needed to have someone. 
> 
> And you know HYDRA had a backup plan in case their favorite brainwashed assassin had to be put down.

**July 11, 2017**

“-Vivas. Dr. Vivas.” Evie opened her eyes, but her sight remained hazy. Her mouth was dry and her lashes gummy. She blinked, and things slowly cleared up. A man was leaning over her, his white lab coat bright against tanned skin. “Ah, there you are. So glad you could join us. How are you feeling?”

_Feeling._ Evie’s brain was fuzzy; her memory of talking to Hayley and catching a cab seemed far away. Had she been in an accident? She was lying down. As she became more alert, she noticed the uncomfortable sensation of a catheter and an IV in her hand. She tried to sit up, but could not.

“Careful now. The restraints are only for your protection. Couldn’t have you accidentally falling out of bed.”

_Restraints_ ? Her mind sharpened. There was definitely a strap across her chest, and padded cuffs around her wrists. Evie licked her lips and focused harder. The lab coat was plain, but an ID badge was clipped to the thick, yellow sweater underneath. It was the violent color of mustard. Or a cab. A cab like the one she was taking to the airport.  _The locks. The hiss._

“What do you want?” Her voice was raspy with disuse, but it made the man smile.

“Wonderful. I prefer to get right down to business myself. I did try to contact you through an intermediary, but your colleagues at _Root_ _Solutions_ were having an extremely difficult time reaching you. With a project like mine, you and Dr. M’benga were of course my top two picks to assist. After Dr. Banner, obviously. Although his help simply wouldn’t be practical. Isn’t that something? Here you are, just into your thirties and already so notable in your field. It is quite impressive, Dr. Vivas.”

Evie took a deep breath and then held it, letting it out slowly. She had been abducted. Was being held against her will. Drugged, most likely, and by people who had anticipated having to hold her for some time – if the catheter was any indication. She was calm, for now, but she knew panic wasn’t far off. It was the body’s natural response to fear. She needed to get any information she could and stave off the adrenaline surge for as long as possible. Her brain knew all of that, but her nervous system – the softest, most childish parts of her brain that still created nightmares of waking in a strange place and being unable to move – did not listen.

“What-what project?” Without her consent her breathing was speeding up, becoming shallower. She tried to memorize his face. The deeply tanned skin. Brown, slightly almond eyes, dark hair cut short and liberally streaked with silver. The room. Cement block walls painted a disconcerting yellow. Standard dropped ceiling panels, stained. The one directly overhead had the shape of a mitochondrial fold, outlined in brown.

“One that will shape the future, Dr. Vivas. I know you have been working on Bruce Banner’s research – no need to dissemble. And with your knowledge and experience and my resources, we are going to do what no one has done for almost a century.”

He looked pleased with himself. Pleased and confident and far too assured. Evie breathed faster. Her heart rate increased. 

“I-I-I,” she sucked in air. “I haven’t. I’ve never-never...” her chest was so tight, she could feel emotions, fear, clawing at her, pulling her under. She pulled against her restraints. “Never met Dr. Banner.”

“I do not appreciate being lied to, Dr. Vivas.” He still looked pleasant, but he waved forward another man, this one larger and armed with a needle. “No worry. you’ll be convinced to work with me in no time at all.”

“I won’t!” Evie kicked out. They had strapped down her arms, but her legs were free and her red shoe impacted the second man’s wrist with all the force her terror had pumped into her muscles. He dropped the syringe and cursed. Metal prongs were pressed against her ankle and electric current ran through her body. Muscles clenched, nerves burned, then it was over.

“I’ve set protocols for this one! No measures that might damage her brain.”

Another man came in, this one to grip her ankles in a bruising hold while his companion prepped a new injection.

“No, no! Get away!”

“No need for any of that, Dr. Vivas.” The man in the lab coat had moved up near her head and smiled. “It has already been decided. You will help me with Project _Scion_ , and when the next generation of super soldiers are born, you will have the satisfaction of seeing your research bring HYDRA back to its former glory.”

“I won’t.” Evie spat in his face. She shouldn’t have. She was in no position to defy anyone, but it was that or swallow and risk throwing up the sour fear roiling in her belly. The drugs pressed into her IV port were cold, and left a sliding, oily feeling under her skin. Almost immediately, she felt woozy. Even as her flesh prickled and her eyes dilated wide, letting in too much light from the overhead fixture, she was being dragged back to unconsciousness. “I won’t,” she repeated, more softly.

“Oh. But you will. And you will be so happy to do so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing up the last chapter in this story, I started with 'Tony' and LibreOffice immediately suggested '-fucking-Stark'. I feel like this is awesome - great job software programmers - and also a sad statement about my use of profanity. Or maybe Tony's use. Or Darcy's. Let's just assume it isn't my fault.


	3. In-Flight Service

****

**July 17, 2017**

 

Two more injections. Maybe three. Maybe more. Another struggle. A blow to her ribs. One to her jaw. The room was cold. Sweat drenched her skin and then cooled there, making her shiver. The lights were too bright – then far too dim. Time passed in a haze. Light and dark. Pain and medicated numbness. _Questions, questions, questions._ A struggle, _too_ _weak_. A blow. Injections. He had come back each time, the man with the lab coat. Each time in a horrible, thick sweater and bland, pleasant voice. 

How far had she gotten with Banner’s research? 

Had she been given access to fluid and tissue samples? 

Had she seen comparisons between Banner’s DNA, and that of Captain Rogers? The Winter Soldier? The Black Widow? 

It always circled back to the serum. Evie never answered –  _thought_ she never answered - except to say that she didn’t know, wouldn’t help. It was true, she had never seen any of Banner’s work, had never compared samples of other serum recipients. They never asked about Pepper or Tony, never questioned if she might have some other purpose at the Tower or with the Avengers beside research. Never asked about Darcy.

Evie was thankful for that, when she was enough in her right mind to be thankful. Whatever they had given her, it did more than just make her pliant. Answers to questions seemed to float up to the tip of her tongue. It was rare she could hold back her thoughts entirely, although she had managed not to offer any information that wasn’t directly requested. 

After the second injection, or maybe the third, she had been moved to a cot. There was a toilet and a sink in the room, several thick blankets and a pillow. She could walk far enough to get a drink and relieve herself, but lucidity was brief. The stained ceiling was more than ten feet from the floor – too high for her to reach even if she had the balance to stand on the cot or sink. The floor itself was bare and cold – as were the walls. It was noticeable all the time, even when she was barely cognizant of her surroundings. At some point she had been dressed in thin, worn scrubs and a pair of fuzzy socks, but they did little to keep her warm. Evie wondered how long it had been since she was taken. She hadn’t eaten anything, but was not hungry. She knew Tony Stark would look for her – he would have to given what she knew about him and Pepper. The others would too; her knowledge was too valuable to fall into enemy hands. She only hoped they came soon.

_Not soon enough_ , she thought grimly. The steel door to her room opened with a grind and Evie managed to sit up before the lab coat and one of his orderlies entered. The orderly carried another tray of vials and syringes. 

“Dr. Vivas, just one more treatment and then you can come on down to the lab with me. I am sure you are ready to get back to work, get a change of scenery. Yes?”

“I won’t help you,” she repeated, for what must have been the thousandth time. She didn’t fight when the orderly pulled her arm out to inject her. Even if she had the muscle control, there was little she could do to hurt him. Experience had taught her that they would only bring in as many men as it took until she had been given the shot. This time – or maybe just the first time she had noticed, there were several, in rapid succession, with small neatly printed labels. 

First, the oily, cold liquid.  _Fentanyl Ketamine III_

A cloudy, white fluid.  _Sodium Pentathol_

Then a sharp, tart something that made her heart beat faster.  _Pemoline Mephedrone_

Finally, a blue vial, oddly opalescent.  _GH-321_

The plunger went down slowly, and it began to work before even the last drop had entered her system. Evie felt strangely disconnected – not from her body, but from her mind. She was counting the cement blocks in the wall, as she had so many times. Another train of thought, simultaneous and in a cool detached voice, was calculating how long she could survive on intravenous fluids. The combination of drugs that could have the effects she was experiencing, the odd itch at the back of her throat that indicated she was getting both depressants and stimulants. Still another, in rapid fire Spanish, was logging threats, plans for vengeance and memorizing the faces of her captors. It was promising herself that she would not give them what they wanted.  _Nunca_ .

“Dr. Vivas,” the lab coat smiled. “Let’s walk down to the lab, shall we? There is a lot of work to be done.”

The orderly hauled her up, and her feet shuffled along in the obnoxious fuzzy socks. Out the steel door, down a long, gray hallway. A right. A left. An elevator. Up or down she couldn’t say. The entire time she could hear herself screaming to break away. To go limp. To run down the hall and find a phone or an exit. No sound came out of her lips except the quiet counting of each step.

“Here we are.” The lab coat swung a new door wide. The room was set up for organic chemistry. The equipment was new and sparkling. Huge, well lit cabinets of supplies and samples lined one wall. Another had an exam bay, partially covered by a curtain. There were whiteboards covered with formula and a mass spectrometer. 

And an ultrasound machine.

“I will admit, I have been very anxious for you to be ready to assist, Doctor.” The orderly pushed her down onto a rolling stool, only the narrow back keeping her from sliding off again. He retreated to the door, standing guard, while the lab coat busied himself collecting a sample from a large, walk-in freezer and setting up a microscope.

“So few people can truly grasp the significance of what we are doing here. But you! I have read all of your papers. You, of all people, understand the importance – the value – of perfecting the genome. I think you will be impressed with how far HYDRA has come.” He wheeled her stool over to the station, and Evie couldn’t find it in herself to put up even token resistance. Her lips were still forming numbers, counting now the vials in the cabinets. A slide was already on the tray, ready for viewing. Evie blinked her eyes into focus, taking in the soapstone counter and the sample dish laying open beside the microscope. The masking tape that labeled it was old and crumbling. Yellowed, like lab coat’s sweater and the walls in her cell and the useless fuzzy socks on her feet and the cab that had taken her.

The letters were Cyrillic, but the date was clear. 

_1948_ .

And below that, in black marker directly onto the plastic dish,

_Winter Soldier. Spermatozoa. From Sample 1 of 23._

Evie’s fingers clenched against the thin blue scrub pants. Her lips were counting the vials. Her brain was shouting, _!Utiliza el microscopio! !Golpealo con el, corre!_

Another part of her mind was calmly noting that the slide was taken from a larger sample, probably a full collection. Assuming average fertility rates and even the most basic IVF procedures, twenty-three samples would be enough to fertilize hundreds of eggs. Using Evie's techniques and ICSI, the number would be much higher. She was running scenarios, considering the steps necessary to design trials. She shouldn't have been. Didn't want to. She kept telling herself to stop, but the problem was right there before her and she only needed to-

"Chronological comparative analysis," her mouth said, as if she had no control over it whatsoever.

Lab coat smiled. "I thought you might be interested in that. Our last research partner was not nearly as intuitive or creative as you, Dr. Vivas. It took him weeks to come to the same conclusion." He turned his back on her to pull a whiteboard closer. The equations danced - almost solving themselves. Chemical compositions. Genetic sequences. Evie had to close her eyes against it all but still her brain continued to work on the half-finished project, trying new solutions and searching for answers.

"When I was approved to secure your assistance, I took the liberty of having all of our data and samples brought here. It is a compliment to you." He gestured to a large, walk-in freezer unit. "Together, I know we will be successful. Shall we begin?"

Evie shivered, but when he gently pressed her head forward, she looked through the microscope.
    
    
      _* Nunca - Never Utiliza el microscopio ¡Golpéalo con él, corre! - Use the microscope. Hit him with it and run!_
    


	4. Tarmac

**July 25, 2017**

 

It is obvious she is developing a solution to our longevity issue. You can see from the work she has done.” Sodhi pulled up several still images of the lab, zooming in on the whiteboards that had been covered with layers of writing. English and Spanish, both in a shorthand that was only half-comprehensible, competed with molecule diagrams and genetic structure notations for space.

“Dr. Lutz shook her head. The woman had several decades of experience over Sodhi, but had not advanced through HYDRA’s hierarchy as quickly, and so technically answered to Sodhi. She made no attempt to hide her dissatisfaction with their roles, but never defied his orders.

“Developing? How can you tell? She may work like the hounds of hell are after her, but the treatments have still left Vivas half insane. She has diagrams for at least two unrelated projects up there, and the surveillance from her room suggests she has developed psycho-somatic tendencies. Possibly even outright hallucinations. My entire course of research for the GH-321 compound has been derailed by your _experiment_. And her mind is clearly not up to the task.”

“A _brilliant_ mind, Doctor. She simply has more than one train of thought operating at once. A few more injections and she will share everything she knows with us.”

“More treatments?” Lutz frowned deeply. “My supply of GH-321 was severely compromised when SHIELD fell. I barely escaped the Guest House with the small amount I did. I won’t waste it on this project – she’s a lost cause, Sodhi.”

“Our supply.”

“What?”

“I believe you intended to say _our_ supply of GH-321.” Sodhi kept his smile firm. “No matter. A slip of the tongue, I’m sure. Inventory states you still have nearly sixty units remaining. That is enough for three more treatments. Instruct your staff to get the first prepared. I’ll oversee it tonight, before she rests.”

“Lutz opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut angrily. After several tense minutes she stated, “You’ve put a great deal into _Scion_ , Dr. Sodhi. If it does not produce results...”

“That won’t be an issue.” Sodhi dismissed her from his office and switched his computer screen back to a live feed of the lab. Vivas was seated on the rolling stool, her feet moving to swirl her chair back and forth as she stared at the whiteboard. Her mouth was moving, but he didn’t bother turning on the audio. She rarely spoke except to count and repeat math equations. Her right hand, though, it was twitching with a marker – ready to finish something.

“She was close. Sodhi could feel it. He had laid the groundwork, the theory, and Vivas was going to help him finish. Together, they were going to perfect the human form. It was likely premature, but he could not stop himself from drafting a request for the first live subject. Not quite three weeks at the facility, working with the collection, and even her half-finished ideas were far ahead of where the last researcher left off. He hadn’t given her HYDRA’s most prized genetic sample, but if she was successful in creating Winter Soldier offspring, Sodhi would feel comfortable utilizing the most unique materials available to them.

“Carson wanted an army for the new HYDRA. There would be no better soldiers than those bred from the Winter Soldier and Captain America.


	5. Fees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never underestimate a woman with strong ethics. Or one who has taken advanced chemistry.

_**July 28, 2017** _

 

Evie could feel herself slipping into focus again. It wouldn’t last long. Each day, as the haze around her began to clear, Sodhi would arrive in a new sweater and order the administration of another round of injections. Then she would know nothing until she woke again in her cell with the urge to move and to explain and to _know_ – and the motor control to do little but shuffle down a hall. Her fingers didn’t even work well enough to prepare her own slides. A wiry young man with a patronizing smile and the uncomfortable habit of patting her would follow her directions, fetching samples from the freezer and bringing her anything she needed for analysis.

 She couldn’t shut off her brain. Even if she managed to turn away from the project, one pointed question from Sodhi or the assistant would bring it to the forefront again. It took everything she had to keep from spilling all that was in her head out through her hands and onto the whiteboard. She could do nothing to keep from talking except occupy her mouth with nonsense: counting vials, ceiling stains, calculating the steps between New York and Los Angles, estimating the volume of cerebral spinal fluid in Congress. It was getting harder though. She did not get the blue fluid every day, but on those days that she did, her mind raced faster. Her thoughts were more uncontrollable.

After the last injection, she found that she had a new train of thought further crowding her brain. In Spanish she still scolded herself for not taking more action. Still counted cameras and guards and the number of turns between her cell and the lab. Still imagined with bloodthirsty intent how much force it would take to lift a microscope and crush the condescending assistant’s skull.

Her mouth was listing combinations of amino acids, counting out how many known variations existed in nature.

In English she was thinking about the samples HYDRA was storing. She knew why their previous attempts had failed. _So simple._ Knew why the materials were less than ideal. _Collection method untenable._ Knew how to correct the problem. _Zinc, fructose, prostaglandins._ She could make it work, could create thousands of babies with serum coded into their DNA. Children that would never know freedom or kindness or anything but service and pain and obedience. Sodhi had given her medical charts for the Winter Soldier. She knew his children would inherit the same physical and mental strength that had made him a thing of nightmares. She knew the causes for what HYDRA labeled ‘flaws’ in his serum compared to Captain America’s. She knew exactly what experiments and horrors he had faced – what his children would face if they were made by HYDRA.

A new voice in her head, a calm and rough thing that sounded a great deal like her Pops, had split off another line of thinking. This one had no interest in the science or math or how good it would feel to spit on the assistant.

_¡Maldita frotando mi rodilla, esa perra enferma!_

Pops was far more practical.

_The guards and staff all speak English. The assistant is obviously American. It is unlikely they took me out of the country._

Evie was thinking about the first results from Darcy’s fetus. Comparing that to what she had seen over and over again in every sample taken from the Winter Soldier. She extrapolated how the Vita-rays might have impacted initial administration of the serum.

_... rompe los dedos de perros pequeños y viscosos ..._

_If I could get out of the facility, I should be able to find help. All I need is a phone or a web-enabled camera and Tony Stark could locate me. Even if HYDRA catches me and brings me back, it could be enough._

Vita-rays. HYDRA’s files compared them to radiation. Substitutes had been used. Johann Schmidt had tried U-235, with obvious negative side effects. Bruce Banner had used gamma radiation, with equally undesirable results. Howard Stark had never revealed anything about his contribution to the super soldier program, but it might…

_... toma esta pipeta y encuentra su próstata ..._

_A distraction would be easy enough to manufacture._ She looked over the cabinets with glazed eyes.  _Ammonium perchlorate. Magnesium._ With shuffling steps she walked away from the assistant. He was accustomed to her wandering as she talked to herself.  _I’ll need to be ready._ Disabling the assistant would be the hardest part. Although her motor skills were improving by the minute, she wasn’t anywhere near normal, and he looked stronger than her.

Why radiation? What express purpose could that have? Rapid cell growth? Yes, but also malformation. So something like radiation, but not. Something that caused instantaneous grafting of genetic material. Something that spurred viral production…

_..._ _disfruta metiendo esa aguja en su bolsillo, no estará tan encendido cuando_ _…_

_Destruction. No one else can ever control what is in this lab. It has to end here. The freezer door will need to be open. Chlorine. Bromine. Silver azide. I’ll need to run._

The chemicals she needed were easy enough to slip into the wide front pocket of her scrubs. With her right hand she wrote on the glass cabinets – formula for a viral growth bath. With her left she collected what she needed. There was a rack of sterile pipettes, slides, and dishes near to the walk-in freezer. She paused there, writing on the door, this time penetration force for cellular walls. The first mixture she she slipped into her pocket in two vials, holding it gently so that it would not be agitated. The second she palmed.

The assistant called out as she opened the freezer. “Dr. Vivas, now you know I’ll get you whatever you need.” She set the mixture on the closest shelf and backed out, as if he had convinced her, but left the door cracked open so oxygen could circulate.

“Come on over here,” he said with a smile.

_...quemar su cara..._

“Careful on the step now.” He reached out to help her down onto the main level of the lab, and Evie gripped the outside of her pocket and crushed the two vials together. The burn was immediate and intense, but she kept her face turned away and her eyes shut. The assistant howled, and she could feel the heat and pain in her side but it was distant, difficult to comprehend through the lasting effects of the drugs they had been pumping into her since she was taken. 

She tripped, falling into the man more than tackling him, but he went to the floor all the same. Her fingers fumbled with the pocket of his jacket, searching for the syringe she knew was there. 

“You bitch!” he screamed. His face was red and blistered, his eyes pinpoints of black and unseeing. They rolled, smashing into a table and sending her stool rolling away, but she didn’t let go of him. He punched her, and her jaw and cheek bloomed with pain but she dug her nails into his shoulder and forced her right hand around the shape of the syringe. _Yes_. Victory was short lived as a cord wrapped around her throat. There was a crash, and a heavy weight centered on a thin line of pain and tension across her trachea. His free hand found hers on his shoulder and he gripped her wrist, slamming it down against the concrete floor. He was spitting, snarling and furious. Evie couldn’t breathe. Her lungs screamed and her vision tunneled with blackness. With one thumb she flicked off the cap. She jammed the needle into his side, between his ribs, and depressed the plunger quickly.

It wasn’t in a vein, but whatever they had been injecting into her worked quickly on the assistant. He jerked, cursing, then fell heavily on top of her. 

Evie panicked. His sweaty hands were on her neck and chest. The cord still biting into her throat. She pushed him over and clawed at her neck, trying desperately to get air. Alarms were going off, smoke from the improvised flash bang made the room hazy. Flames licked up the edges of the freezer door, consuming the plastic and organic samples stored inside. Her fingers were wet by the time she was free, scuttling backward on her hands and knees until she was pressed against the wall closest to the door. Her eyes were streaming, her heart racing. When the door burst open, it nearly hit her as Sodhi and a guard raced in.

_I need to run._ She did, hauling herself and through the door before it could close. Sodhi and the guard had their backs to her, and she only hoped the smoke in the room would keep them distracted. Her socks slipped on the tile floor and she fetched up hard against the corridor wall.  _Ahead, thirty feet. Left. Stairs._ The stairs led to another corridor, one she hadn’t seen before. She stumbled down it, sliding on the floor and coughing. An explosion sounded behind her, shaking dust loose and making the lights flicker. Indistinct shouts and gunfire sounded further away. Boots were approaching. Fast. 

The closest door opened easily under her hand and she found herself in a custodial closet. The world tilted sideways for a moment, slipping out from under her. How much time passed, she wasn’t sure, but she was next aware of the overhead light shutting off completely and the room she was in being illuminated by dim red emergency lights through the corrugated glass in the door. Her face was pressed up against a shelf of cleaning supplies.  _Bleach. Drain Cleaner. Peroxide._ Her hands moved to begin a dangerous combination.

The gas she could have created might have taken out the guard who found her in the storage closet, but throwing an open bottle of bleach in his face worked just as well. He screamed and threw himself backward, slamming into a set of metal shelves and knocking a heavy can over. It impacted with his head solidly, and he slid to the floor in a puddle of blood and fumes. 

Evie’s limbs were shaking. Sodhi never let her go so long without an injection, and the adrenaline was pushing her system hard. She did not look at the guard’s face as she pulled the gun from his holster and keys from his belt. She checked the hallway before she left the storage room, but smoke and dust filtered the low light. Combined with a growing headache and disobedient muscles she couldn’t have said for certain if she saw anyone or not. Not knowing what was ahead, she moved as quickly as she could, staying low not out of any sense of self-preservation or stealth, but because standing up straight made her head spin.

Hours, or maybe only minutes, later there was a shout behind her and weapons fire. Evie slipped on the floor and fell. Her hands were damp with sweat even in the cold. She dropped the gun. Air rushed overhead, and a shockwave of sound blew open a door. She didn’t wait, didn’t look, just scraped and clawed her way up off the floor and made for sunlight. 

The air was sweet and warm. The sky bright. Blackness threatened her vision, and Evie was certain she was hallucinating or already dead. The man who had been the Winter Soldier dropped out of a tree not twenty feet away. His eyes were wide with surprise. His metal arm gleamed. 

_The possibility of my escape coinciding with a rescue attempt is..._ her mind raced to hold on to the numbers.  _He must have known._

_Besa al hombre y deja que te salve_ , she urged herself.

“It’s all gone. Destroyed. You don’t have to worry about it, Sergeant.” Evie closed her eyes with relief.

 

 

 

* _¡Maldita frotando mi rodilla, esa perra enferma!_ _\- Stop rubbing my damn knee you sick son of a bitch!_

 r _ompe los dedos de perros pequeños y viscosos -break your fingers you slimy little dog_

 t _oma esta pipeta y encuentra su próstata – take this pipette and find your prostate_

  _disfruta metiendo esa aguja en su bolsillo, no estará tan encendido cuando – enjoy putting that needle in your pocket, you won’t be so when_

  _quemar su cara – burn your face_ _Besa al hombre y deja que te salve – Kiss the man and let him save you_


	6. Return to Your Seats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...I'm back to Tony again. I can't help myself.

_ **July 28, 2017** _

 

Tony paced around the inner ‘u’ of the conference table, glad no one but Friday could see him.  He hadn’t even told Pepper about the mission. She had been under enough stress as it was, and that wasn’t good for her. Not for her or – or anything else, that might be, that hadn’t be en but might be – just not good. The team had landed nearly an hour ago, and Tony was still second-guessing giving in to Steve’s insistence that he remain in New York and coordinate the attack. If  _he_ was too close to the situation – too personal – then Steve was beyond  _close_ and practically fucking the situation  in the ass . Still,  Tony’s  heart was already at about six-Red-Bulls-and-a-dash-of-crack-cocaine, he knew he didn’t need the additional adrenaline of being shot at.  _Assuming_ _we_ _ha_ _ve_ _the right place._

_ Assuming the intel  is correct. _

_ Assuming that Nat and her web of spies and informants and slimeballs who had been left with the broken fingers of a good interrogation  are on point. _

_ Assuming  we aren’t too late.  _

Tony scanned again through the screens projected onto the wall.

_Soldier:_ Nothing  to see there but trees.  D irt.  G rass.  A rusted steel door set into the ground like a storm shelter.

_Falcon:_ A slowly panning view of a silent building. Two cars in the small parking lot, surrounded by trees and mountains in the darkness of early morning.

Widow: Mostly the back of Steve’s stealth suit and a roving visual patrol of the forest around them.

_Captain:_ Double doors into the small building. A sign overhead reading, Gaiatech Pharmaceutical Research.

_ Fucking hippies.  Never trust a hippie.  _ Tony ignored the hypocrosy of his own new anti-gun and pro-wheatgrass stance.

“I have eyes on the front entrance,” Steve said over his comm. True to the plans, for the above ground portion at least. I’ll clear a path to the subterranean levels, then Widow hits the first security station for intel. Falcon, don’t let any reinforcements sneak up on us.”

“On it.”

“Soldier, let me know if you have activity at the backdoor.”

“Copy,” Barnes said quietly.

“Iron Man, we clear for go?”

“Nothing on my radar, Cap. Just waiting on you.” Tony blew out a hard breath. His hands were shaking.

“Go.” 

Steve charged into action, hitting the glass doors on the front of the building with enough force behind his shield to carry him through the next set and a sheet rock wall. Natasha was right behind, stunning the shocked security guard and a janitor - the only heat signatures above ground.  Tony remained tense, scanning information as it was picked up by the 3D mapping sensors  with which  he had  equipped Natasha. The hidden elevator shaft was exactly where they predicted – although not so hidden once Steve ripped open the doors. Natasha took the elevator down while Steve hit the stairs, beating her by almost a full minute. 

When properly motivated, a super soldier could  achieve some impressive feats . When motivated by a threat to his family, Steve was capable of putting his bare hand through concrete and ripping out a solid six inch thick conduit of communications wires. 

While taking fire.

“Two enemies on my three o’clock. Automatic rifles,” Steve stated flatly, continuing on through the damaged wall as if it were no more than tissue paper and into the next room and ignoring the steady _pratpratprat_ of bullets hitting his shield.

“No problem,” Nat answered. When the elevator doors opened, she came out low, sliding across the floor and shooting. One, two, three shots and both men were down. They did not make any noise. “Main corridor clear. Iron Man?”

“Processing,” he said tersely. Information was flooding in from Natasha’s system, creating a holographic image of the HYDRA base. _Fuckers couldn’t konmari this shit?_ The base was a maze of tunnels that branched out and went deeper, into older sections that looked like they predated Howard  and littered with rooms full of dense carbon mass. _Fucking paper, only villains keep this much fucking paper._ The whole thing had a very retro meets mildew chic vibe that Tony did not appreciate. And which Steve was still destroying, one wall at a time. Two more guards went down under his shield, and a third with a bullet to the head.  An explosion, not visible to the team, rocked the base and sent dust flying.

“Watch for defenses,” Steve ordered.

“Got it,” Tony announced. “Two lefts, then first door on your right, Widow. Should be a data bank. Captain, you’re about one demolition away from the security center. Try not to destroy the cameras before you find out where they’ve got her, okay?” Steve just grunted and instead of going through the next wall, he ripped the door off its hinges and tossed it into the corridor. “That works.”

“I’ve got activity out here,” Wilson reported. 

Tony switched his attention to the  _Falcon_ screen. Four trucks with after-market armor and machine guns mounted in the beds were speeding up the one lane asphalt road to the base. 

“Your call, Falcon, Iron Man,” Steve managed while he choked out a security guard.

“EMP?” Wilson suggested.

“Should take out the trucks and the second gun – it’s a computer targeted model. The others are up to you, flyboy.”

A string of curses from Natasha pulled Tony’s attention back that way. Natasha rarely cursed – certainly not with any emotion behind it, but she sounded furious enough to beat a bald man and steal his eyepatch. Tony couldn’t read what she was scrolling through on her tablet in the data storage room, but Friday was recording it all and receiving packets of information from Natasha as well. 

“Suggest we upgrade to Operation _Scorched Earth_ , Cap.”

Tony’s eyes widened and his heart rubbed up against the raw bone where his reactor used to be. _Scorched Earth_ was for evidence that HYDRA was trying to recreate Extremis or the Serum. _Scorched Earth_ required that the base be burned to the ground. Bombed into a crater, and any twitching bodies left over  shot and then dropped down the hole. Normally, Tony was a fan of _Scorched Earth._ It was right up his alley.  His whole MO was practically _Scorched Earth_. But in this case, it meant that Pepper was in jeopardy. Her and Darcy both. And Darcy’s kid-parasite. Tony had only recently become a father, but he understood exactly what Steve was feeling when he roared – _fucking roared_ – in anger.

If he didn’t know better, Tony would have thought the Hulk was there. 

“Captain,” Tony said sharply. As sharply as he could with his nerves shot and his pulse trying to race for the hills. Someone had to remain calm. It wasn’t him, but he could fake it. “Focus. Do you have eyes on our target?”

There were several deep breathes. Another guard rounded a corner into Steve’s line of sight and fell to the ground with a neat hole between his eyes. “Yes. Target is moving. On route now.” 

Natasha had left her tablet to continuing mining data and secured the room behind her. More methodically and with significantly less stomping and smashing than Steve, she cleared corridors and set explosives. No one she crossed paths with lived.

“Three targets down,” Wilson announced. “Last one is giving me some trouble. I could use a pinch hitter, Iron Man.”

“Done.” Tony fired up the two Iron Legion bots still in the Quinjet a quarter mile away and set them off to Wilson’s location. The new designs required direct monitoring and kill confirmation, but Tony could manage two by himself easily. Falcon was flying in tight loops, staying ahead of the machine gun fire but unable to get close enough to make his ordinance effective. “On your six,” Tony alerted him. Not in the mood to fuck around, Tony kamikazed one bot into the remaining gunner and set the other to provide cover for Wilson. A million for a new Legion bot was worth a quick victory.

“Thanks, Iron Man. All clear out front for now.”

Natasha made quick work of another three guards, escorting two lab techs to an escape shaft.  A male and a female in lab coats.

“They make the end of that hall and they can circle around to the backdoor,” Tony warned.

“Ready,” Barnes stated.

“Not a problem,” Natasha snarled. Tony blinked again. Natasha was not a snarler. The man, younger and sweating with fear, took a bullet to the head. The woman, older, carrying her own gun, was hit in the shoulder. She dropped her weapon and clutched her arm. Her mouth opened wide, prepared to bite down on a suicide capsule, Tony was sure. Before he could give a heads up, Natasha hit her with a left cross that cracked bone and dropped the woman hard. “ _Ne tak legko dlya vas, vy, nikchemnaya koza_.”

“I’ll have a prisoner to bring up,” she said.

“Copy,” Wilson responded.

A long string of swears from Steve were  followed by a shout and a flash bang. “Target is taking fire. Get down!” The shield left his hand and Tony felt his stomach lurch sideways. 

“Friday,” he said quietly, “new screen. Rewind Steve’s recording to – right there.” Silhouetted by the flash bang that had blinded Steve was a slender figure with a long braid. “Goddammit,” Tony breathed. In real time, Steve’s shield raced over head of the ducking figure and slammed into a guard, momentum carrying the man straight back and through a steel door. Tony double checked the map.

“Action here,” Barnes made the understatement of the month.

“Careful! Careful! She – Target may be coming out there!”

Tony held his breath as he watched Barnes’ feed. Smoke and dust billowed out of the destroyed doorway. Several long seconds later, tripping over the dead guard and clutching at her side, came Evelyn Vivas. Barnes dropped from his nest, his eyes tracking her swaying movements in the  light of dawn.

Her lips were working, but Tony couldn’t make out anything until Barnes was nearly on top of her position, “...about it, Sergeant.” Her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed before Barnes could grab her. 

“Target acquired.” Barnes did a visual recon of the area before assessing Vivas quickly. She had burns up one side of her ribs and across her stomach. Her neck was raw and bleeding. Tony had to force himself to breathe evenly even as he alerted Cho and sent her images of the wounds. Someone had tried to strangle her. 

“Medical assistance needed,” Barnes continued. “Extracting target to transport now.” He tossed down a sentry camera and then picked her up gently, keeping her burns away from his body, and began to run at a pace that would have made her scream with pain if she had been conscious.

“Withdraw,” Steve ordered sharply. He backtracked to Natasha’s position and picked up her prisoner while Falcon circled around to keep an eye on the approach. Within minutes, everyone was on the way back to the quinjet. 

Tony watched the explosions with deep satisfaction.

 

 

 

*  _Ne tak legko dlya vas, vy, nikchemnaya koza –_ _Nothing so easy for you, you worthless goat_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think, though? One more chapter for Accommodations? Bucky's POV? Steve?
> 
> Thanks to biblioworm for Operation Scorched Earth. Still a great name.


	7. Lost Baggage

_**July 28, 2017** _

 

“Dad?” The quiet question startled Tony so badly he knocked his hip into the table spinning around. Maria was standing in the open elevator, her arms wrapped around her waist and looking sick.

“Hey...” He cleared his throat, trying to sound less like he had just backed off the edge of a mental breakdown. “Hey, what are you doing down here? Shouldn’t you be in school today? Idiots to show up and whatnot?” Belatedly, he remembered the video feeds. “Friday, go ahead and mute and shunt the feeds to my tablet. Route emergency requests to my phone.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“School doesn’t start for another two weeks,” Maria replied. It said something about Tony’s internal clock and workshop fashion choices that he only then realized that she was wearing her pajamas. Her legs looked like a mile of tanned skin and bruised shins under shorts with kittens on them. The kittens were shooting lasers.

“Does you stomach hurt? Fever? Let’s head to medical and-”

“Did you find her? Dr. Vivas?”

Tony blinked. Details about missions were restricted – but he wasn’t surprised Maria had figured out what was going on. She was a brilliant kid. A Stark. When he didn’t answer right away she continued,

“Mom looked really worried during breakfast. And I know it’s not – no one said anything about why – I mean, they took her because she works here, didn’t they? Because she knows us?”

Tony took a deep breath.  _Okay, no problem_ , he thought,  _this is what all that role playing in therapy is for. Tell the truth. Just think before words come out._ “No way, Junior.”  _Oops. Shit._ “I mean, yes, maybe.” He winced.  _Well, fuck._ “Come here.” He waved her over to the conference table and she leaned against him, staring at the mostly blank wall that  now only showed a muted feed of a few news stations. Carefully, Tony put his hand on her shoulder. It was still new, the comforting thing. 

“Anyone who works in the Tower, or at the Facility, is at risk from all the bad guys we fight. But they know that – Pep and I made sure everyone knows what they are getting into. And we work really, really hard to keep them safe. Like with the electromagnetic-plasma barrier that Foster and I-”

“So what happened?”

Tony waited for the punch of guilt, and it came, right on cue, but less intense than he had been expecting. More of a pinch. “Some of it was our fault. We should have been keeping closer tabs on Vivas when she wasn’t in New York. And we will from now on. But, from what we found out, she might have been taken even if she hadn’t worked here. The research Vivas does is – they thought they could use it. And they had already taken some other people who studied the same field.”

“You did find her?” Maria was looking up at him with huge brown eyes. It was one of the rare moments when his kid didn’t have on a hard shell of sarcasm and genius. _Born to be a Stark._

“We found her. She’s going to be fine.” Tony hoped he wasn’t lying.

***

Barnes was glad Evelyn didn’t wake up until he had her on the stretcher in the quinjet. He had run as fast as he could, since she didn’t seem to have anything broken, and while he had a steady gait and good hands, the jostling would have been painful. He pulled the scanner over first, hoping he was right about the broken bones. Cho would know for certain.

“Friday,” he said lowly, “send this to Tower medical.”

“Certainly, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Cho’s eyes only,” he added. He didn’t know what HYDRA had done to the Doc, but for Natalia to be as angry as she sounded over the comm, it couldn’t be good. While the scanner did its work, he performed a visual inspection. She was missing one sock, that foot was filthy and swelling around a few toes. _Dislocated metatarsals, potential fracture._ _Possible ankle sprain._ Her ribs and waist were burned and blistered on the left side – what looked like shards of glass embedded in the remains of her top and flesh near the hip. _Second-degree burns on sixteen percent of body, third degree burns on four percent._ The backs of her hands were bruised and sunken from old IV sites; her inner elbows and biceps littered with track marks. _Chemical interrogation._

Injections were expected. They kept a prisoner complacent, malleable. Easier to handle and question. Still, Barnes felt a new tension creeping up his back. There were a lot of needle marks. 

Her neck concerned him the most. _Strangulation. Melee combat from anterior position; opponent between eighty-two and ninety kilograms. Height not discernible._ The ligature marks were deep, already bruising, and long gouges were still bleeding. The skin there was rough and torn, as if fingers had made the wounds. He checked her hands again and found traces of blood and tissue under her nails. Her cheek and jaw were flushed purple under the skin and the corner of her lip was split. _Closed fist impact. Possible hairline fracture of mandible._ He could hear Wilson landing, and Steve’s heavy footsteps outside. Carefully,  Barnes lifted her head to pull her braid out from under her. Her hair was a mess, loose and falling out to stick to the sweat and blood on her skin.

Steve walked past him and dumped his burden in the holding compartment with more force than was really necessary – or advised under the Geneva Convention, Barnes was sure. Natalia came in next, striding toward the cockpit with a tight jaw and stiff movements.  Barnes straightened. Evelyn’s pulse was beginning to pick up, but he had a few moments at least until she woke.

“Are you injured?”

“No.” She glanced at Evelyn and he could see Natalia was forcing her teeth to unclench. “We’ll talk when we get back. How-”

“No!” Evelyn screamed, sitting straight up. Her eyes were wild and round, her breath coming in short pants. “I won’t!”

Wilson approached at a jog. “It’s okay,” he soothed.  The calming tone was practiced, but it didn’t seem to affect Evelyn as desired .  He raised his palms up. “Easy, Dr. Vivas. You’re-” She scrabbled away from  Wilson and would have fallen off the stretcher if Barnes hadn’t reached for her. He angled his chest to impact the right side of her back – as far from her injuries as possible, and held out his arms on either side of her, not touching - he knew that might set off a panic attack if she hadn’t recognized her surroundings yet, but just giving her a railing.

“ _Te cortaré los ojos esta vez, perro estúpido_!” He could hear her heart hammering in her chest – far too fast. Wilson must have seen it on the monitors.

“Steve, take us up,” Natalia ordered.

“She needs a sedative, now.” Wilson pulled a pre-filled syringe from the med kit and Evelyn started babbling in a mix of Spanish and English, shoving back against him hard enough he had to brace himself. There was a lot of scientific jargon, some names of chemicals that he recognized, and others he didn’t.

“Shhh,” Natalia was saying. “Look at me now, Evie.” Gone was all anger from the spy’s face replaced only with reassuring kindness. “Estás a salvo ahora.” Evelyn didn’t even glance at her, staring instead at the needle in Wilson’s hand. He caught on quickly, moving to hold it behind his back instead. It didn’t help. She flung her arms out wide in panic. One smacked into a medical screen, the other hit his metal arm. Her fingers wrapped around him so tightly the knuckles turned white. Finally, she seemed to recognize them.

“Sergeant?” she whispered. Her free hand began circling against the stretcher, her eyes rolling in her head. “Natasha? I haven’t – I didn’t...” She murmured something even his ears couldn’t catch. “...given in, if you hadn’t come soon.” The Spanish started up again, slurred and too fast for Barnes to understand more than a word or two. Her fingers on his arm were tracing, tapping out a pattern that seemed familiar. 

“No injections,” Natasha said quietly to Wilson. “It sounds like she’s been on a cocktail, we’d be risking an interaction. Friday, send this video to Cho.”

“We have turbulence coming up,” Steve called out from the cockpit. Natasha moved to join him and Wilson reached for the straps on the stretcher. Barnes shook his head.

“No restraints.” He nodded toward her bare ankle and the obvious bruising there. “I’ve got her.”

“You sure?”

He nodded again and Evelyn’s hair caught on his stubble, tickling his skin. Slowly, he adjusted them both so that her right shoulder pressed into the wall of the quinjet but her back remained supported by his chest. She never let go of his metal hand, although she didn’t say anything else to indicate she was aware of where she was. Her pulse and breathing remained high, and she continued to murmur to herself – numbers, as far as he could tell. Wilson watched them both carefully from his own seat.

“ _...given in, if you hadn’t come,”_ she had said.

So, she had  _not yet_ given in. Maybe not given HYDRA anything. After three weeks. Barnes nodded to himself with satisfaction. He had been right. She was a tough lady. He considered the explosion that his team hadn’t set off and the burns on Evelyn’s side.  _Tough, and fierce as hell,_ he thought.

 

_*te cortaré los ojos esta vez, perro estúpido – I’ll cut your eyes out this time, you stupid dog_

_Estás a salvo ahora – You’re safe now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, maybe one more after this for Accommodations.


	8. Next Time, Take the Train

_ **July 29, 2017** _

 

Cho came out of the exam room and closed the door firmly behind her. Barnes could see Evelyn inside. She was propped up on the bed, but ignoring the tray of water and jello that had been left out for her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, despite the cool air conditioning in the infirmary. The fingers of her left hand were tapping on the edge of the bed, while her right was swirling and drawing circles in the bedding. Her mouth, considerably more swollen around her split lip, continued to move as she spoke silently to herself. It was the most calm she had been since she woke.

“Why haven’t you used the cradle yet?” Tony demanded. “She’s going to scar like that and-”

“Tony,” Pepper put a pale hand on his arm, “Let Helen talk.”

Steve finally stopped his pacing to sit with Darcy on an over sized couch. Wilson leaned forward in his chair, forearms on his knees, his counselor expression firmly affixed. They had all managed to change from the mission except Barnes. It was only in the last hour that Evelyn had let go of his metal arm without having a panic attack.

“Evie is mildly malnourished. Dehydrated. The x-rays all look as we expected. A few hairline fractures, but nothing that needs casting. Her burns have been cleaned and debris removed, but she does need either traditional skin grafts or the cradle in a few small areas. The wounds on her neck are concerning. Deep tissue bruises and some damage to the trachea-” she held up a hand when Tony would have interrupted again, “which can be repaired, but I cannot perform any additional procedures until I can sedate her.” She glanced at Barnes then, and he held himself perfectly still. Evelyn had been calmest with him – or at least, with his arm – but it was highly unlikely she would submit to any needles easily. It would be for the best, he knew, but he also wasn’t certain he could hold someone down while they were treated against their will. Not and like himself afterward.

Even Pepper Potts couldn’t contain Tony forever. “So? Whatever you need, Cho. Name it. A specialist? Friday, get me-” 

“What did they give her?” It was Natasha, once again cool and professional, who asked the necessary question.

“That’s just it, I’m not exactly certain. I can’t draw her blood for obvious reasons, and the few drugs you said she mentioned don’t make any sense with the reaction she’s having. It’s obvious she’s going through a withdrawal now, or something like it, but without more information, treating even her symptoms could do more harm than good.”

“So she just has to wait it out?” Steve looked horrified. Darcy’s eyes were glued to the exam room, her face twisted with an emotion Barnes couldn’t name and her hands protectively over her stomach.

“For now. I’ll keep running simulations to see if I can figure out what they gave her.”

“She wasn’t...” Pepper cleared her throat delicately, one hand pressed against her chest. “They didn’t...Was there evidence of sexual assualt?” Barnes could feel his blood slowing to an arctic crawl. It wasn’t above HYDRA. Was exactly their level. He remembered studies. Experiments performed on some prisoners to see how they responded to threats of rape. To actual rape. Some HYDRA agents enjoyed their work more than others. It might explain part of why Natasha had been so upset. 

If they hadn’t already burned it down, he would go back and drive his fist through the face of every HYDRA operative.

“No,” Cho reassured Pepper quickly. “No indications of that. She was restrained, although probably not as much in the last week or so judging by the bruises. Whatever they were giving her made them certain she wouldn’t fight or try to escape.”

“Their mistake.” Steve looked furious.

Cho didn’t acknowledge him. “The next step will be-”

“Guys?” Darcy’s voice called their attention and Barnes followed her pointing finger. “Is that, is she signaling or whatever, Morse code?” 

Barnes felt like an idiot. He hadn’t used it for more than seventy years, but he should have recognized the gentle taps against his own damn arm. He would have never thought that a civilian would know Morse, much less use it while drugged and panicking half out of her mind.

“How do you-” Steve began.

“I don’t. But Evie does. Her Pops served in the Pacific. Taught her that and flag signals too.”

Tony was shooting rapid fire commands at Friday, pulling up video of Evelyn on his phone and setting up a translation. Barnes, Steve, and Natasha were all already on it.

“Two hours,” Barnes said. “Nat. Cho.”

“Deb- debrief immediately,” Steve finished. 

The next few minutes were silent as they all watched her finger tapping, trying desperately to communicate. Barnes had been trained in observation and memorization techniques, but even he was hard pressed with what she spelled out next.

“Here,” Natalia, the only one who thought to simply write it down, handed a pad of paper to Cho. “She’s just repeating now. But does this look like something you could work with?”

Barnes read over her shoulder. It was a list of chemicals or medications, with amounts indicated for each one. He only recognized a third of them.

“What? No, that’s...yes. Okay. Yes. I can put this together.” Cho looked up at Natasha. “She is going to crash hard when this wears off – assuming she got the counter-indications correct, and even then it will probably exacerbate withdrawal. I need legal permission to do this.”

“You have it.” Pepper sank down gracefully next to Darcy. “Evie signed a medical release when she came to work for us. In emergencies that affect security, I can make that call.”

“Very well. Sergeant, please hang around until we are ready to give treatment. Then you’ll have to leave, per the patient’s request.”

Barnes nodded, but he had to wonder.  _What does Evelyn have to debrief that she only wants Natalia and Cho to hear?_

 

***

 

Natasha sat in an armchair next to Evie’s hospital bed, waiting for the injection to kick in. The doctor hadn’t fought Barnes when he held her for it – either because some part of her knew she had asked, because she trusted all or some of them, or because she had calmed enough to recognize her surroundings – there was no way to know. Natasha hazarded a guess, her guesses were usually accurate, that it was a combination of things. Not the least of which was that her room looked nothing like a HYDRA cell.

Stark had spared no expense. The infirmary was small, one room per Avenger, a surgical suite, and an open triage area, but each room had been outfitted like a luxurious hotel. All medical equipment was discreet, the floors sho shugi ban hardwood and the walls covered in textured, fabric treatments and hung with expensive original artwork. Helen stood on the other side of the bed, monitoring Evie’s vitals, and Sam Wilson waited in the hallway. He had requested they ask Evie if he might sit in, to establish her mental state and begin devising a psychological treatment plan.  _Prudent. Any civilian would have PTSD._

Barnes had been the last to leave, even behind Tony, his concern not evident to anyone who had not trained as they had.  _Yasha would have insisted on staying,_ she though bitterly,  _if he knew what Evie has to say_ . Nat knew – or had a very good idea. Just thinking about it had her itching to kill someone. Well over a decade she had been away from her handlers, and still there was something that could pull her back to those days – make her forget her hard won stability. If  _she_ could be taken off balance, it was better that Barnes not be there at all. 

It gave Natasha hope for how strong Evie’s mind was. She had to know the HYDRA research was information he would need, but she had also surmised that Barnes hearing it unprepared from her while she was in no condition to linger over discussion was not in anyone’s best interests.

Natasha saw the moment the drugs hit her system. Evie’s muscles relaxed minutely, her breathing evened and became deeper. Her gaze – still slow to focus – was at least less glassy. Friday was already recording, to be sent to a file Natasha had encrypted for her own eyes alone – alongside the information from the HYDRA base.

“She’s stable,” Helen reported.

“Can you state your name?” Natasha asked softly, using her calmest, Natalie-esque persona.

“Dr. Evelyn Teresa Vivas,” her tone was flat, her voice hoarse, but her eyes landed on Nat’s and sharpened. “Can we skip to the questions? Two hours might be generous before I lose it again. Feel free to give me something before that, Helen.”

“Would you be comfortable with a cannula, Evie? You could use the oxygen, and I can hook up a tank of nitrous oxide.” 

Evie made to nod, then winced, obviously having forgotten about her neck – if she even realized she had the injury. Helen opened a hidden cabinet and got out the necessary equipment, still talking, “Just a few more things. I need to draw blood, and I’d like to use the cradle on your burns and-”

“Whatever you think is best, Helen. Just no more drugs. I’ll give you a list of what I know for certain I received.” She held out her arm for the blood draw, but turned her head away, her breathing picking up pace. Her skin was ashen and clammy, but she looked determined.

“Sam Wilson would like to sit in,” Helen continued as she placed the oxygen tubes around Evie’s face. “I think he should.”

“Confidentiality?” Evie’s question made Helen nod, but it was Natasha who guessed what she meant.

“Nothing you say leaves this room, unless it is of an immediate security concern.”

“You can tell anyone with clearance you want,” Evie shocked her by replying. “I just thought it was a decision someone who is not mentally compromised should make. I’m not, I’m still...” Her eyes closed for a long minute. “Can we start?”

“Very well.” Natasha waved Sam in and he took a seat at the far side of the room, tablet in hand for notes but remaining quiet. “Start with when you left Stark Industries LA.”

“Let’s get back to that,” Evie said, surprising Natasha again. “In case I...don’t make it the full two hours. Most importantly – they had no idea about Pepper or Darcy. And given their research, they would have asked if even a whisper had reached them. And they didn’t- might of...” Her eyes closed again and she swallowed painfully. “I don’t remember them asking.”

Her fingers trembled as she spread them across the bedding, studying the bruises on the backs. “You need to know what they had at that base. Fluid and tissue samples from Sergeant Barnes, primarily. Taken over decades while he was a prisoner. They also had a single set of samples from Captain Rogers. Based on the date, I would estimate they were taken within a day or so of the fall of SHIELD.” 

_Busy little bees,_ Natasha thought grimly.  _Caught him the one time he was out cold and vulnerable._ Steve’s samples hadn’t been noted in the HYDRA files she had reviewed so far, only the purpose for Project  _Scion_ and the Winter Soldier Program. And all isolated from the previously released files in SHIELD. It made her wonder, not for the first time, how many secrets HYDRA had hidden even from its own.

“They had samples from the...Widow program as well.”

Natasha forced herself to move normally, rather than become still and give away her emotions. When she was done here, she would comb through every line, every word, of those files. There was no place on Earth that HYDRA could hide from her.

“What kind of samples?” Helen asked, her medical training getting the best of her. Then she looked to Natasha and winced.

“Blood.” Evie rasped. “Cerebral-spinal fluid. Spermatozoa and Eggs, depending on individual. And in the Sergeant’s case, at least one biopsy from every organ. Including the heart and brain.” Her volume grew as she got angry, her heart monitor beeping quietly. “They would strap him down as soon as he was out of cryo and extract whatever they thought they wanted before he was cognizant enough to fight them. Sodhi,” she spat, “that’s who was running the project – he was convinced with enough data I would be able to solve an issue they hadn’t been able to work around. He had every genetic sample HYDRA kept a record of transferred to the facility where I was held. Fucking moron.” Her voice cracked, and Helen held out a straw for her.

“What was the project?” Natasha pressed, still professional and collected. It was important that Evie remain calm, not get sidetracked by fear and regret and anger and consequences, there would be time for that later. Years of therapy. So Natasha did what had to be done. “Describe it to me.”

“Project _Scion_ ,” she answered, her mouth turning down in disgust and breaking open the cut on her lip. Blood dripped onto her chin and dotted her Avengers branded medical smock. “Sodhi wanted to...” her voice caught, but she pressed on, “breed new HYDRA super soldiers. With the Winter Soldier as the father.” Helen sucked in a breath. “Raise them from birth to be indoctrinated into the organization. He even speculated he might be able to get Sergeant Barnes to voluntarily return and submit to the Chair if it was known his children were being trained.” Anger and scorn were evident in every line of her body and it was difficult to tell if her shivers were from that or the drugs. “A whole generation of Winter Soldiers. Descended from the only man who had ever survived the process and not been driven insane.” She paused again, struggling to catch her breath. “If it worked, Sodhi wanted to try versions with children of Captain Rogers and even Widows.” Her eyes took on a fire that Natasha knew well. It spoke of certainty, a willingness to do anything to necessary. “That is _never_ going to happen.”

Two hours later, Natasha stood in the hallway with Sam and watched as Helen worked over an unconscious Evie, setting up the cradle and preparing to deal with her many wounds.

“I’m sorry, Nat.”

Natasha did not turn, but she raised her eyebrow at Sam’s apology, “For what?”

“For what happened to you.” She stilled, willing away tension, but he only said, “I’ll never ask, not unless you want me to, but I need you to know, however it happened, it shouldn’t have. Not to you, not to anyone. And the rest of us failed you because it was allowed to happen.”

“You weren’t even born then,” she pointed out logically.

“Still.” He rubbed his jaw, watching the gentle glow of the cradle do its work. “When are you going to tell him?”

“Should I?” she countered.

There was no hesitation. “Yes. This, he needs to know this. Needs to know that she ended it. That someone else saw what HYDRA would do and stopped it. And he needs to know that he beat them, not just in escaping, but even while he was brainwashed. They couldn’t get everything they wanted from him. He won.”

“I’m not sure he would see it that way.”

“Maybe not,” he capitulated easily. Sam Wilson knew when to let a matter drop. Natasha had never felt the need – the ability – to bare herself to a therapist, but if she had, Sam would have been at the top of her list. 

They had all had a brush with a possibility so sickening that Natasha was only surprised HYDRA had not explored the idea sooner. It could have all ended so very much worse. _D_ _'yavol strashneye, chem on privlekayet yego_. *

Natasha had liked Evie from the first, admired her even. But she now had a debt of gratitude that could not be measured.

 

 

 

 

*  _D_ _'yavol strashneye, chem on privlekayet yego – The devil is worse than how they draw him; an inverse of the Russian saying: The devil is not so terrible as he is painted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for Accommodations, I think.


End file.
